The words had barely left his lips when—"Aaaaaah!!!" A bloodcurdling scream suddenly erupted from the depths of the black fog. All sound ceased abruptly. Qin Yu's gaze abruptly turned towards the direction from which the scream had come. That area was completely obscured by the thick fog; nothing could be seen.
"Who?!" "What happened?!" "Which sect are you from?!" There was no response. Only heavy, rapid breathing came intermittently from the depths of the black mist. "Huff... Huff..." Then, "Don't come any closer!" The person suddenly roared madly. "You're already dead!" "I saw you die with my own eyes!" "Get out!!!" The screams rang out again. "Get out of my way!!!"
The expressions of the surrounding cultivators began to change. Some immediately used their Fate Soul to sense that area, but as soon as the senses extended, the black mist enveloped them like an icy tide. The person's face turned pale, and they quickly severed their senses.
"This fog..." His voice began to tremble. "It's entering my sea of consciousness!" These words caused an immediate commotion nearby. Qin Yu also sensed the change at that moment. A thin, icy chill was seeping inwards along the edges of his senses.
It did not directly impact his Fate Soul, nor did it forcibly tear apart his sea of consciousness. The black mist simply entered his senses little by little, like a fine, cold current silently seeping over the edge of his consciousness. Qin Yu immediately withdrew his external senses.
But strange noises were already breaking out elsewhere. "Senior brother?" a woman suddenly called out. "Senior brother, what's wrong?" No one answered. A moment later— "Why did you draw your sword?!" Clang—!!! The sound of a sword pierced through the black mist. Immediately afterward, a cry of surprise rang out.
"Senior brother! It's me Qinghe! Look closely! I am—" "A demon!" A man roared almost maniacally. "You dare to impersonate my junior sister and deceive me!" "Die!!!" Boom!!! The sound of a supernatural power erupting suddenly rang out. "Stop!" "Hold him down!" "Don't come any closer! He's already trapped in an illusion!"
The order within the black mist began to crumble rapidly. More and more people discovered the truly terrifying aspect: the mist was infiltrating their consciousness in batches, not dragging everyone in at once.
Some remained conscious, some began to see things that Does Not Exist, and others stood motionless, their eyes gradually losing focus, their faces shifting between terror and anger, their lips constantly moving as if conversing with something only they could see.
The most chilling thing happened quickly. "Uncle-Master!" a young cultivator suddenly shouted. "Behind you!" The old man he called Uncle-Master turned around abruptly. Emptiness behind him. The old man's expression immediately changed.
"What did you see?" The young cultivator stared intently behind him, cold sweat rolling down his forehead. "There... there's someone." "Who?" "It's..." The young cultivator's voice suddenly stopped. His eyes began to change little by little. Fear disappeared, replaced by intense killing intent. "It's you." The old man frowned. "What?" "It's you!" The young cultivator roared suddenly.
"You're the one who killed my father back then!" The old man's expression changed drastically. "What nonsense! We were both in the sect when your father died, you—" The young cultivator was no longer listening. Even more strangely, the other disciple standing next to him saw a completely different scene.
In his view, the young cultivator hadn't gone mad at all; the one truly filled with murderous intent was the old man. "Uncle-Master!" he cried out in terror. "Why did you kill Senior Brother?!" "When did I ever intend to kill him?!" The old man abruptly turned his head. "Are you insane too?!" "Don't come any closer!" The disciple's face turned deathly pale.
Three people, three different scenes. Each person believed that what they saw was the truth. And such scenes began to unfold continuously within the black mist. Some saw their relatives, who had perished tens of thousands of years ago, emerge from the mist. Others saw their fellow disciples suddenly transform into rotting monsters.
Some people saw the ground crack beneath their feet, and they were falling into an endless abyss. They struggled frantically, but to onlookers, they appeared to be standing still the whole time. Others witnessed their closest friends pierce their chests with swords.
He could even see the blood when he looked down, feel the pain, and see the sword piercing through his back. He roared and retaliated. But those who were truly conscious only saw him suddenly unleash his supernatural power on his unsuspecting companion. "Stop!!!" Boom--! "He's in an illusion!" "Don't believe what you see!" "How do I know you're real or fake?!"
After these words were spoken, the surrounding area fell silent for a moment. Then, true fear began to spread. Yes. If the black mist could distort what was before their eyes, who could prove that the person warning them was real? And who could prove that they were still lucid?
Furthermore, who can prove that the so-called "someone trapped in an illusion" isn't itself another illusion? A sect elder's face turned extremely grim, and he immediately shouted, "All disciples, close your eyes! Don't look around! Use your Fate Soul imprint to confirm each other's identities!" The disciples immediately complied.
However, a few breaths later, one of them suddenly opened his eyes. "Something's wrong!" He looked at all his fellow disciples in horror. "The Fate Soul imprints are wrong too!" "None of them are right!" "Who are you?!"
The crowd descended into complete chaos. The formations that the various sects had barely managed to establish began to crack. Some held their ground desperately, some frantically channeled their power, and some kept calling out the names of their companions.
Some people could no longer distinguish between reality and illusion. The black mist did not kill anyone directly. It simply flowed slowly, obscuring vision, invading consciousness, and gradually disrupting everyone's most cherished "truth."
Qin Yu stood in the thick fog, his body still bound by the spatial barrier. His gaze shifted from a crazed figure on his left to his right. There were clearly three people standing on his right. The next instant, one of them vanished. In the blink of an eye, all three reappeared.
Further away, a cultivator was frantically waving his arms, but the sound Qin Yu heard came from the completely opposite direction. His vision and sound were beginning to distort. Qin Yu's eyes darkened.
At this moment, within this black mist, the real danger is no longer just the inability to move the body. What one sees, hears, and senses in Fate Soul is beginning to lose its credibility.
Deep within the black fog, the screams continued to rise and fall. No one knew whether the familiar face they saw next was their true companion or if their consciousness had been dragged into another world.
The black mist continued to seep into the depths of Qin Yu's consciousness. Initially, the chill only remained at the edge of his perception, but as the screams around him grew more intense, the invisible infiltration within the black mist began to change.
Qin Yu's physical body was still firmly bound to the spot by the ancient gate's restrictions. His feet landed on the cold rocky ground in front of the cliff, his arms remained in the original position, and even the gray sleeves hanging at his sides were still in the black mist.
He could feel that his Fate Soul was still inside his body, and his Dao foundation had not been directly impacted. However, the sounds from the outside world were gradually fading away. The roars, screams, and divine power booms that had originally rang out just a few feet away were becoming low and indistinct, until finally only a faint echo remained, carried across endless years.
"Don't believe what you see—" someone was still roaring in the distance. The voice was only halfway through before it was completely swallowed by the black mist. The last thing Qin Yu could see were several distorted figures.
One of them was disheveled and struggling desperately; another was terrified, his eyes fixed on a direction that Does Not Exist; and a third figure stood not far from Qin Yu, his lips moving constantly, but Qin Yu could no longer hear what he was saying.
The next instant, all figures blurred simultaneously. Qin Yu's gaze sharpened. The black mist had already arrived before him. It swept over his body from all directions, without impact or tearing; the icy mist simply and silently seeped into his sea of consciousness along his brow. In that instant, the cliff, the ancient gate, the crowd, and the morning light in Qin Yu's eyes all began to fade away.
The world fell silent, and his vision went dark, but his consciousness did not dissipate. Qin Yu remained conscious, and it was precisely because of this consciousness that he could clearly feel his consciousness distancing itself from his physical body.
One step, two steps—the distance had no true spatial scale. His physical body was still standing outside the Ancient Gate of Myriad Dharmas, but his Fate Soul and consciousness were sinking deeper and deeper. Finally—everything around him completely disappeared.
... Silence. No black mist. No ancient gate. Qin Yu slowly opened his eyes. What appeared before him was a completely different world. Beneath his feet stretched an endless expanse of white jade ancient platform, its surface spotless and flawless, extending to the very edge of his vision.
The sky above was devoid of the sun, yet filled with a soft glow. In the distance, towering platforms floated in the void, connected by wide ancient staircases. Upon these platforms, countless objects were displayed. On the platform closest to Qin Yu, crystal-clear ancient pills hovered in mid-air, each surrounded by layers of Daoist energy flowing naturally. As the fragrance of the pills wafted out, intricate patterns appeared on the white jade ground beneath his feet.
Further away, countless celestial books filled the void. Some were as thick as mountains, some had only a few pages, and some had pages that turned on their own, with ancient Daoist sounds emanating from each page turn. Qin Yu had never seen those characters before, but as soon as his gaze fell upon them, his Fate Soul naturally felt an intuition—any one of them was enough to make countless cultivators fight tooth and nail for it.
On the other side hung countless divine weapons: swords, knives, spears, seals, ancient bells, and long banners. Weapons of all shapes and sizes stretched from the near side to the edge of the sky, their number too numerous to count. Some of these divine weapons even emitted astonishing Daoist charm without being activated. A sword cry rang out, and the distant sky cracked open; an ancient bell vibrated gently, and ripples appeared in a large area of the void.
There was much more. Countless rare items piled up like mountains, and ancient inheritances never seen before floated between heaven and earth. Opportunities that ordinary cultivators would strive for for countless years were laid out before Qin Yu without any concealment.
No need for struggle, no need for fighting, no need for sacrifice. Just reach out and take it. Qin Yu stood still, not moving immediately. His eyes showed little surprise. Because the moment he entered, he already knew—it was fake. The black mist made no attempt to hide this; it didn't even try to deceive anyone.
All the treasures in the entire illusionary realm possess an extremely clear sense of unreality. Any cultivator with a intact consciousness who steps into this place can immediately recognize that everything before them is a manifestation of the black mist.
The real test is never about "distinguishing truth from falsehood." Just as Qin Yu was quietly observing, four ancient characters gradually emerged from the depths of heaven and earth. "Illusory Domain of Greed and Delusion." The First Test.